Survivor
by Liv Cassidy
Summary: "It is impossible to strive for a heroic life. The title of hero is bestowed by survivors upon the fallen, who themselves know nothing of heroism." Does Meredith Grey fit the criteria? She's survived a bomb, a drowning, a gunman, and - most recently - a plane crash. But can she survive the most violating, immoral attack known to mankind? Will she tell anyone? If she does, who?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Starts in early season 9. This is my first Grey's fanfiction; I'm very new to the fandom (I watched every episode in only two weeks). I wanted to write a happier story, but my brain is wired dark and twisted. Please let me know your thoughts, good and bad. If you're triggered by sexual assault themes, then this isn't the story for you. You were warned. **

**Rating: M for sexual content and violence.**

* * *

_"It is impossible to strive for a heroic life. The title of hero is bestowed by survivors upon the fallen, who themselves know nothing of heroism." - Johan Huizinga_

Meredith Grey wasn't a hero in her own eyes. However, she might as well admit that she was the luckiest woman alive.

She had defeated Death on numerous occasions. If she were a cat, you might say she was on the verge of using up all her nine lives. After all, she'd already escaped from a bomb, a drowning, a gunman, and a plane crash. The plane crash had eaten at least three of her lives, leaving her two left. She'd been so close to Death itself that she could taste it. As if she had turned into Death herself. _Well, it had been her nickname. _You can't escape yourself, can you? _You can't escape Death_. Everyone dies…eventually.

But she wasn't dead. Her heart still pumped blood through her veins. Her lungs still inhaled and exhaled oxygen. She still woke up every morning next to her amazing husband. She still kissed her daughter every night. She had survived five years of residency. She was, without a doubt, a survivor.

Not only had she had survived; she had miraculously managed without major repercussions. She was undoubtedly lucky. The bomb could have easily exploded just moments earlier, killing or severely injuring her. When they resuscitated her after the drowning, she could have been brain dead. If Cristina hadn't been there to hold her back while the gunman was pointing a gun at her husband, she most likely would have been shot too. And the plane crash. Statistically speaking, there was only a 24% survival rate of passengers in a fatal crash. They'd beaten the odds; two-thirds of those on the plane had survived. As a doctor, she knew that statistics were absolutely useless. After all, there was only a .00001% of your plane crashing in the first place. The odds of being in a car crash were significantly higher, 1 in 303. Go figure, despite Derek's reckless driving habits, she'd never been in a car crash. The point was she lived, and that went against every odd in the book.

She wasn't supposed to be alive, more less walking. She should have something drastically wrong with her. Lexie and Mark were dead. They'd lost their lives because of the crash. _Why Lexie? _Meredith asked herself every single day; why hadn't it been her? Arizona had lost her leg, and Derek had undergone procedures to fix his hand and still experienced numbness which prevented him from operating. He was

_"There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics." - Benjamin Disraeli_

A lot goes into statistics. They all started with a hypothesis, which eventually led to an experiment. It's virtually impossible to collect data from the entire population, so samples are selected. A sample must consist of at least thirty to be considered viable. The higher number in the study, the lower the margin of error and the higher the confidence interval.

And that's why statistics are unreliable. That's why they can't be trusted.

When the statistics are small, you doubt it'll happen to you. Humans like to think they're invincible. That nothing bad can possibly happen to them. Bad things happen to other people, right?

If there was one thing Meredith Grey had learned during her lifetime, though, was—if the statistic was numerically small, the odds were high that it would happen to her.

The statistics on sexual assault are staggering and mortifying. Every two minutes someone is sexually assaulted in the United States. Eighty percent of these victims are _under _the age of thirty. Only one out of three of these assaults are committed by strangers.

Meredith Grey was thirty-seven years old. She had a loving husband who would never lay a hand on her. She had wonderful, supportive colleagues and friends whom she fully trusted with her life, not because they were great people, but because they had saved her life on multiple occasions. Time after time, she considered herself one of the lucky ones. Statistics indicated it was unlikely she would become the victim of a sexual assault. And if she did, it would be someone she knew.

But statistics are just numbers, right?

* * *

It was just another day; another day part of her regular, ordinary routine. She awoke to her husband's body heat against her skin. His arm was wrapped securely around her. She felt safe in his arms. Meredith had learned to rely on Derek being by her side. She couldn't sleep without him. Before the plane crash, she'd felt lonely on the nights he got paged for a surgery. She'd hated sleeping in the on-call rooms without him on the nights he went home and she had to stay late. But she wasn't a resident anymore. The long overnight hours were no longer demanded of her. She was able to go home at night and depend on her interns and residents to monitor the patients, the job she'd done for five years. She was an attending and, frankly, she was enjoying it. She was enjoying every minute of playing Mommy and wife. Who would've thought her life would end up like this?

Being a mom wasn't in her genetic make-up. There were two types of parents. You could be a mother without being a mom, just like you could be a father without being a dad. Meredith had never had a mom or a dad. Her mother was married to her job, and her father was absent. Her parents never held hands in front of her. She had no memory of them kissing. In fact, she barely remembered the days when her parents were together.

She was determined to provide a different life for her child.

_"Having a child changes everything. All of a sudden you have so much to lose, so much to live for." - Mariska Hargitay_

She carefully shifted her body toward Derek, trying not to wake him, but his eyes flashed open as she faced him. His blue eyes twinkled and he leaned in and kissed her. "Well, good morning, beautiful," he said in a soft voice.

"It is a good morning," Meredith replied, kissing him back, then added, "a good morning to be alive."

He kissed her forehead. "Someone has turned into quite the optimist."

"Well, I have a lot to be optimistic about," Meredith laughed.

"Do you?" Derek chuckled, running his mouth down her neck, gently kissing her neck. A shiver ran down her spine.

"I do," she said, grinning widely.

"Tell me more," he insisted, giving her a cheerful smile, then he ran his hands up and down her waist as he began to remove her nightshirt. He covered her collarbone with kisses, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Well, for starters. This," she gasped, as his soft hands tenderly massaged her breasts. He surrounded her nipple with his lips and sucked gently. Her head started to buzz delightfully. She moaned faintly again. "Waking up to you every morning is the highlight of my day."

He lifted his head and their eyes met. The love in his eyes radiated into her veins. Her heart rate quickened. He leaned into her face and kissed her lips. "I'm glad that waking up to me is the highlight of your day, because waking up to you every morning is the highlight of my day. Now, tell me more." His warm morning breath lingered into her nose. In the beginning of their relationship, it bothered her; but she'd grown use to it. She'd even grown to enjoy it.

His lips moved to her stomach, and he covered her stomach with his kisses, as he slipped off her pants. He lowered his mouth. Her heart raced.

"Secondly," she said between moans, "I have Zola. She's growing more beautiful every single day, and I couldn't imagine my life without her. We're so lucky to have her."

He kindly looked into her eyes. "I would have to agree with you. She's perfect, just like her mother." Meredith giggled as he lowered pants and leaned over her. He kissed her neck. "Anything else?"

"Well, let's see," she said, and released a grunt as Derek entered her. His thrusts were rhythmic, slow, and gentle. "I have," she moaned, "such wonderful colleagues and friends, who have gone out of their ways to save my life on more than one occasion."

"I would have to say you're one lucky woman," Derek smiled warmly, and he began thrusting quicker and faster. She began panting; her breathing quickened as he moved faster and deeper into her. She could feel him pressing against her cervix. Her head spun; she was on the tilt-a-world at the carnival. She was getting close.

"Oh, Der," she moaned quietly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, groaning as they climaxed together and he finished inside her. After over a year of trying to get pregnant, they'd stopped trying. Frankly, she was happy that they had stopped trying. Sex was so much more enjoyable when you weren't trying to conceive a baby.

He rested his body next to her, and lay his head on top of her chest.

"That was amazing," Meredith gasped, catching her breath, and then she kissed his lips.

"Want to go again?" Derek asked with a hopeful spark in his eyes.

"I would love to," Meredith said, quickly glancing at the clock, "but our daughter is awake, and we have to get ready for work."

"How do you know she's awake? Did you hear her?" Derek stared at his wife inquisitively.

"Mother's instinct," she replied simply. She kissed him on the forehead and gathered her pajamas before going to her daughter's room, where she found her toddler daughter standing in her crib. "Good morning, Zozo." The little girl giggled as her mother gathered her in her arms. Meredith snuggled her daughter and carried her back to the bedroom, where Derek was already fully dressed.

"Mother's instincts, indeed," he smiled. "Hello, Miss Zola." He took the baby from Meredith's arms. The toddler's face lit up as she entered her father's snug arms.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. Can I count on you to get her dressed?" Meredith asked.

"You can count on me for anything," Derek replied with assurance in his voice.

* * *

That was their morning schedule. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing in the least bit out of the ordinary. Their schedule was no different than any other American working family. As part of their morning routine, they left for the hospital together and dropped Zola off at daycare. So much had changed in the past year, and Meredith had never felt closer to Derek. She hated being away from him. She hated being away from Zola. Now, with Cristina in Minnesota, she found herself clinging tighter to Derek. She talked to Derek about things that she used to talk to with Cristina. He was now her person. While she still talked to Cristina on a daily basis, she wasn't always available.

They used to drive separately to work, but now that she was no longer a resident; her schedule was more flexible. He was no longer doing surgeries. Most nice, they were able to leave the hospital by seven o'clock. It was nice. Meredith couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so alive. So rested. She'd forgotten what a good night's sleep felt like. Until now.

She kissed Zola goodbye at daycare, then she and Derek went their separate ways in the hospital. Derek was off to teach his first class of the morning, and Meredith had pre-rounds to start. She was on her way to the Attendings' lounge when she heard a voice from behind.

"Doctor, excuse me. Can you help me?"

She whirled around and observed unfamiliar man who was approaching her. He was wearing light blue scrubs, which indicated he was a resident. Yet, she didn't recognize him. She thought that she knew all the residents.

"Do I know you?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Dr. Lawrence. I've just recently transferred here. Started yesterday, and I was wondering if you could show me to an on-call room. A guy's gotta catch a little shut-eye. I'm sure you can relate."

His smile was cunning yet charming. He had dark, mysterious brown eyes; they were the kind of eyes a person didn't forget. She wondered why she hadn't seen him the day before, if it had in fact been his first day.

"Where'd you transfer from?" she asked out of mere curiosity.

"Huh? Oh, Portland. I wanted to be closer to my mother who was recently diagnosed with leukemia. She lives here in Seattle. I couldn't imagine leaving her alone. I'm an only child, you see. I'm all she has."

"That was kind of you," Meredith replied. "You weren't given a tour of the hospital yesterday?"

"Well, I was, but I can't seem to remember where the on-call rooms are. Could you please show me to one?"

"Follow me," and she guided the man to the closest on-call room. She opened the door, and led him in. "Well, here you are. I have to get back to work now."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," the man smirked, and her heart stopped.

"How'd you know my name?" she asked quickly with hesitance.

"It's on your coat," the man who called himself Dr. Lawrence pointed to the letters on her white lab coat.

"Oh, right," she chuckled, rolling her eyes while feeling slightly humiliated, then she turned around to leave when suddenly she felt his hand tightly grab her wrist, pulling her back. He shut the door and locked it. He pushed her against the wall, clasped his hand over her mouth, and held a gun to her head.

"Scream and I'll shoot you," he hissed in her ear. "Now, drop your pants."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - I'll admit, I was hesitant to post this story at first. I understand that not everyone is accustomed to the staggering truths of sexual assaults, and that's the exact reason I decided to go ahead and post this story. The Joyful Heart Foundation is my primary inspiration for this story. There is truth behind the fiction. I'm writing with the intent to educate my readers. I've done more research for this story than I have for any fanfiction I've written, ever. I'm so used to the SVU fandom, where nobody questions a rape story. Nonetheless, I am giving my utmost effort to keep this story in-character and in typical Grey's fashion. I completely understand that this is a very difficult, sensitive topic for many people, which is why I've implemented a trigger warning in the first chapter.**

* * *

"_Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest." - Carrie Ryan_

We've all heard the metaphor "survival of the fittest." The phrase was birthed from Charles Darwin's principle of "Natural Selection," which you probably learned about in your high school biology class. Simply put, the strongest species will survive, and the weakest ones die away. The term has been misinterpreted over the years and coined inaccurate by biologists, because the strongest species to survive would indicate simply the species with the highest ability to reproduce. The species that has the ability to have the most sex and successfully fertilize its female eggs will always come out on top. Humans obviously are good at both; hence why human beings are so high on the food chain.

Conceiving a baby is really just a matter of luck. Actually, quite a few factors go into conceiving a child. There is an estimated 15 to 25 percent chance of conceiving during each cycle of ovulation. However, that's assuming you're healthy and physically able to conceive. Studies have indicated that about 10 to 25 percentage of all known pregnancies will end in a miscarriage, and that's assuming the mother doesn't have a hostile uterus.

Did you know that humans are actually one of the _least _fertile species on our planet? There are really only five days out of any given month that a human woman is even able to get pregnant. That being said, why do so many women freak out when their period is a couple days late? If you look at statistics, the chances are you're not pregnant anyway; so why waste your time worrying? Everyone knows stress just delays your period longer anyway.

Then again, we've been over this already: Statistics like to lie to us. Perhaps there are statisticians out there who get off by lying to us. If you think there's a chance you may be pregnant, it's completely useless to waste your time Googling_, "What are the chances I'm pregnant?"_ You had intercourse, there's a chance you're pregnant. You learned in sex education that the only birth control method that is 100 percent effective is abstinence. Though, who seriously practices abstinence anymore? You also learned in sex education that pregnancy tests are the only reliable way to find out if you're pregnant. But even they give out false negatives (which are more common than false positives). That's why you go to your doctor and have a blood test. Why waste your time with $15 pregnancy test? Your co-pay is only $10, assuming you have good medical insurance.

As it turns out, Darwin didn't intend the metaphor "survival of the fittest" to single out the species with the largest muscle mass. He intended to single out the species that are most able to adapt to new environments. The species that can adapt to new environments will survive the longest.

There are many forms of adaptation that go far out of the need to survive in the natural environment. For example, when you're under unexpected stress, your brain needs to be able to switch gears quickly. You don't have time to waste when you're being attacked by a member of your own species, because every word that comes out of your mouth could affect whether you die or survive.

Hospitals are supposed to be one of the unquestionably safest places on Earth. Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital was clearly an exception. A bomb, embedded in a patient's body, had made its way into the hospital. A gunman had walked right in and fired, killing and injuring hospital employees. So much had happened inside this hospital.

People go to medical school because they want to save lives. You don't expect that you'll be putting your own life at risk, too. Who wants to hurt doctors, anyway? When you're physically ill, your only chance at survival is in your doctor's hands. Medical students never second guess the fact they might have selected a dangerous profession. After all, if they wanted to put their own lives at stake and still save lives, they would have chosen a different career path. After all, police officers, firefighters, and even paramedics and EMTs have professions that are far more dangerous than doctors, and they all save lives.

You never think something so vicious and demeaning will happen to you until it does. You think you're invincible, because that is just part of human nature. You're supposed to feel safe inside a hospital. Sexual assaults aren't supposed to happen in hospitals. Then again, in any sane world, they wouldn't happen at all. Our world isn't sane. In any sane world, these statistics would cease to exist: 30.9 percent of sexual assaults take place in the rapist's home; 26.6 percent take place at the victim's home, 10.1 percent take place at a home shared by the victim and the rapist, 7.2 percent take place at a party, 3.6 percent occur outdoors, and 2.2 percent occur in a bar. You do not see "at work" or "in a hospital" on that list. Then again, if you did the math, you noticed those statistics don't total 100 percent. We can derive at the conclusion that 12.2 percent of sexual assaults occur elsewhere.

Hospitals and workplaces are included in "elsewhere."

* * *

Meredith froze and instantly broke into a cold sweat. Cold sweats could be caused for several reasons, including heart attack, menopause, stress, and hypoglycemia. The cold sweat had been brought on by the sudden stress of a man holding a gun to her head, threatening her and demanding she pull down her pants for him. Her heart pace quickened, and it wasn't like the heart rate climb that she experienced after having an orgasm. This was an anxiety-induced heart rate increase. Her stomach throbbed into her stomach, and she felt ill.

"Please," she mouthed, trying to find words of reason to talk herself out of this awful situation, but her brain had frozen. Her thoughts were disorganized and unclear. She closed her eyes, and she saw her husband's handsome face smiling at her. _Derek, where are you? _She swallowed the spit inside her throat and looked at the bunk beds. These were the bunk beds that she and Derek had made love so many times. She remembered the first time she had had sex on these sheets with him; she had still been an intern. Then, Addison had come back into the picture and everything was messed up. Then, he left Addison, and started dating Meredith again. Of course, at the time, Meredith had been dating McVet, which was a messy situation all in itself. She chose Derek, though. And then they broke up again, but continued to have lots of break-up sex in the on-call rooms. Then he started seeing Rose, and finally, they got back together for good and moved in with each other. After they moved in together, the sex in the on-call rooms slowed down. However, now that Zola was part of their lives, they didn't have as much alone time at home, so they had begun making time at work.

She had so many memories under those sheets.

"Do as I say, or you're dead," the man hissed.

"Y-You sure you want to do that?" Meredith stuttered. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I-I mean, y-you sure you want to kill me? You do know there are security cameras in the hallway. If you kill me, they'll see that you were the last person to come in here with me. You won't get away with it. You _will_ go to jail." She was careful to confidently emphasize on the word _will_.

"You think you're so smart, Meredith Grey. Well, I have news for you. I know all about you. You and your magazine-cover husband. Of course, I also know that your relationship wasn't always a perfect love story. Now, was it? It started off pretty bumpy. That's what happens when you sleep with married men. Oh, hey, how's his hand doing? I hear he has some very disappointed patients now that he isn't able to operate. Shame, shame."

She felt nauseous. "Where are you getting all of this information?" she demanded furiously.

"Welcome to the 21st Century, Dr. Grey, where it's a simple task to dig up information on anyone you want, especially surgeons who got into med school only because of their mother's famous name. Yeah, I know all about the famous _Grey Method_. Hey, you looked hotter in your Facebook profile picture than you do in person, but that's usually the case with you women. You like to do your hair and makeup all fancy and shoot a perfect selfie. You don't see doctors using a photo of themselves in their scrubs as their profile picture. Do you, Dr. Grey? Let's face it, scrubs really aren't that sexy. That's why we have to get them off you."

Her stomach twisted into knots.

"You look so much like your mother. In fact, you look more like her in person than you do in the pictures I've seen. I mean, you're not that pretty, but you can't have looks and brains. That just wouldn't be fair, would it? From what I've read, you were actually blessed with your mother's brains, and you're following her footsteps in general surgery. Hey, brains are actually pretty hot. Is that why you married a neurosurgeon? It's a shame that you and McDreamy can't have a child of your own to pass on your fabulous roots. Damn hostile uteruses. Though, your adopted daughter is quite the cutie pie, but personally I'm not a fan of white couples adopting black babies. It's just confusing for the kid, you know what I mean? Well, of course you don't, because you adopted her anyway."

"Shut up the hell up," Meredith snarled angrily. "Don't talk about my daughter like that, and where the hell are you getting this information?"

_He called Derek "McDreamy." _

"That is for me to know and for you to, well, figure out for yourself. You're the smart one, I thought? Now, are you gonna drop your pants for me or am I going to have to do it for you?" He smirked cunningly. She knew she couldn't fight. He had his large hands wrapped around her wrists.

"How can I take my pants off if you've got your hands tightly handcuffed around my wrists?" she asked innocently, carefully devising a plan to run as soon as she could get him to let go of her. If she could get out of the on-call room, then she could possibly find help. That was, if he didn't escape before she found help, and then she was screwed.

"Right," he said, slowly loosening his grip on her. She lunged under him and made a rush toward the door. She had her hand on the knob and would have escaped if the door had been unlocked. He grabbed her by the leg as she was in the process of unlocking the door, and then dragged her across the floor. She panted loudly, gasping every last breath she could. The cold floor rubbed against her body; her back ached painfully, and there was a dull ache in her neck. He smashed her head against the wall and suddenly everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

"_We can never be sure of our courage until we have faced danger." - La Rochefoucauld_

Desperate times call for desperate measures. This phrase originates from the proverb "Desperate diseases must have desperate remedies." The meaning behind these two statements is the same: when you're faced with a hopeless situation, you'll take extraordinary measures to find a solution.

Until you're faced with a "desperate disease," you can't fully understand the concept. Most doctors will see a desperate disease at some point in their careers. The best doctors are courageous enough to go out of their comfort zone to find a cure for these diseases. They are willing to operate in conditions all other doctors consider "inoperable." Not everyone is brave enough to use desperate remedies. They're risky, but the best doctors are willing to take those risks if there's a slight possibility of saving their patient's life.

Exhibit A: Isobel Stevens.

Isobel "Izzie" Stevens was diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic melanoma skin cancer. The cancer had already spread to her liver, skin, and brain. She was given a 5 percent chance of survival, meaning there was a 95 percent chance she would die. As humans, we like to know our chances of survival. After all, doesn't an approximate answer surpass no answer at all? When your doctor tells you have a 5 percent chance to live, you might think that's next to nothing. In reality, it means out of 100 people who have had the surgery, 5 people survived. Such a low chance of survival can cause a person to do crazy things. Izzy, for example, chose to get married, thinking she would be dead in a few days. In the end, she was one of the 5 percent who survived, then she left her husband and vanished without a trace. Later, she sent divorce papers and hasn't been heard from since.

When we're faced with a medical catastrophe, one of our first questions is "What are the chances I'll survive?" But the truth is, no doctor can tell you how long you're going to live. They can only give you estimates based on other people's stories. No two individuals are the same. We're all unique. There are medical miracles all the time. There have been patients who were given only six months to live, then turned around and lived another thirty years. Doctors can't give you a death sentence. That's not their job. They are merely the healers. Their job is to elongate patients' lives, not shorten them. Though, more often than not, whether a patient lives or dies is completely out of their control.

Statistics are unreliable, and often times we choose to avoid them. We don't want to accept the astounding numbers in front of us. Maybe that's why, according to a new research study by the Avon Foundation Research, 65 percent of parents don't talk to their children about sexual assault or domestic violence. The truths behind sexual assault are gruesome, and many parents don't know how to talk to bring it up to their children. How do you explain to your child that not all people are kind in the world? How do you tell a patient there's a chance they might not survive treatment? It's not exactly the same, but the concept is similar.

Avoidance is easy. Ignorance is blissful. If we don't talk about difficult issues, then it's like they don't exist. The unfortunate truth is, though, sexual assault is a very real issue that hundreds of thousands of people encounter each year, and it has affected millions in the United States alone. It is crucial we start talking. We can avoid it, and pretend it doesn't happen. That's always an option, the one many individuals choose, but it doesn't make it the right option.

Somewhere in America, according to the U.S. Department of Justice, a person is sexually assaulted every two minutes; 43 percent of rapes occur between the hours of 6 p.m. and 12 a.m., which represents only 25 percent of the day.

These are real statistics. They're not numbers pulled out of a hat like some statistics you might see. There's a quote that says, "99 percent of statistics are made up on the spot." Above are the one percent.

Life is full of choices in which you must decide upon every day. You can live in denial, or you can do something about it. You can choose to believe the author is a crazy psycho who needs therapy, or you can accept that she's done her research and knows what she's talking about. You can be courageous, or you can be a wimp. You can stay silent, or you can speak up and have your voice heard.

Desperate times call for desperate measures…

* * *

When Meredith woke, her head was pounding against her skull. The room felt like it was spinning. The cool air brushed against her body, and she shivered, soon realizing she was lying sideways on a bed. She wasn't alone. The man had one arm around her body, like Derek usually did when she woke, and ran his other hand down her nude body, resting finally on her butt. Meredith closed her eyes, thinking of all the times she'd spent in this very on-call room. So much had happened on this bed, and she knew that she wasn't the only person who had had sex on it. It was a hotspot among hospital staff.

"You're finally awake," the deep voice whispered in her ear. Her gut tightened as she felt nauseous. He ran his hand over her shoulder and carefully altered her body to face toward him, and she came face-to-face with him. He, too, was naked. She studied his face, which was just centimeters away from hers. His large brown orbs gazed cunningly into her. He gave her a closed-mouth smile. His face was rectangular, and he had a mole on the top of his forehead, just below his hairline. He stroked her soft hair, and murmured into her ear, "You're so beautiful without clothes on. I knew you would be."

She clenched her fist tightly and dug it into his stomach, but he only laughed. He rolled on top of her and smiled down at her.

"Please," she mouthed. "Let me go. Let me live. I have a family."

"We're just getting started, though. I can't stop now," he smirked, laughing and wrapping his grimy hands around her neck. "Now, shut up." She could barely breathe as he choked her throat. He locked her knees with his knees, and forced himself inside her. She tried to cry, but his grip was too tight around her neck. Her head started to buzz, flashes of light glared into her eyes, and she felt darkness succumbing her.

"_Disappearances happen, pains go phantom. blood stops running, and people fade away. There's more I have to say, so much more, but I disappeared." - Season 3.16, Drowning on Dry Land_

_She was swimming, but then she stopped. She realized, her purpose in life was over. Perhaps, this was how it was supposed to end. She quit swimming. She quit fighting, and she allowed her body to sink. She watched as the light from above splattered against the water. She'd given up on life. She held her breath, her head went blank, and suddenly all was gone._

He released his hands from her neck, and she gasped for air; her lungs pounded in her rib cage as she regained consciousness. He'd finished, and laid next to her again.

"What am I going to do with you?" he whispered so calmly and eerily in her ear.

"Let me live," Meredith gasped, pleading; goose bumps crawled up her skin. She shivered. This wasn't like the time in the lake. She wasn't going to give up without a hard fight. She had so much to fight for, so much to live for now. _ You're not going to die, _she told herself, she promised herself. She'd survived a plane crash, for God's sake. What about Zola? What about Derek?

"Why would I do that?" the man sneered. "You've seen my face, you know what I look like. What's going to stop you from going to the police? I can't have you doing that."

"_Do you know what kind of miracle that it is that Derek is who he is? Do you know how rare it is that someone like him even exists? He's still an optimist. He still believes in true love and magic and… soul mates. He's waiting for you, and if you don't come back from this, you will change who he is,"_ Denny DuQuette told her when she died, and he was right. Derek was her soul mate. She didn't realize it at the time. In fact, she didn't realize it for another year, when their clinical trial became a success. When suddenly the benefits outweighed the risk. When she realized life was too short to play games. She'd dated plenty of men, but none of them made feel like Derek did. He was the one, and that's when she realized, she couldn't live without him. It had taken her eons to fully trust him, but she fully believed that they were extraordinary together.

Without her, Derek would fall apart. They'd just gotten their lives together. Zola came into their lives, and everything was perfect. Their relationship had survived the worst, and then the plane crash happened. Lexie died, and then Mark died. Derek lost feeling in his hand and couldn't operate. He and Callie were still searching for a way to fix his hand, and Meredith believed that he would one day regain feeling and operate again. She had faith. She couldn't die, because Derek would be changed forever. He would lose all hope. He would probably never operate again.

"I'll do anything," Meredith begged. "Absolutely anything. Please, if you let me go, I'll go fall down the stairs. It'll look like I just tripped, and that'll explain the bruises. Nobody has to know about this, I promise."

Then, there was a loud beep that came from the floor. Someone had paged her.

He reached over her and dug into her pile of clothes on the floor. He'd found her phone and held it in his hand. His eyes stared intently on the phone screen.

"Well, well, looks like your hubby is paging you. What a shame," he shook his head and began messing with her phone. She reached to take it out of his hand, but he was fast to move it out of her reach.

"Please," she gasped, panting. "Just let me go. No one has to know. I'll never tell anyone."

"Damned right you wouldn't tell anyone, because you'd certainly regret it. You know, that's a lovely cabin in the woods your husband built for you. You know, he sounds like a great guy. Aren't you lucky a lucky girl?" He flashed her phone at her; a photo she'd taken of the house the day they moved in was on the screen. "If I do happen to let you go, and you tell, you'll regret it. You won't get to see your daughter go to kindergarten, graduate high school, get married..." He continued to scroll through her photos. "Aw, little Zola. She wouldn't want you to tell. Wouldn't want to hurt this precious innocent face, now would I? She's down in daycare right now, isn't she?"

Meredith clenched her lip with her teeth.

"Please, let me go. Reply to Derek and tell him I'm on my way," she growled, begging for her life. Sweat dripped down her face. She felt filthy. Dirty. Horrifyingly disgusting and violated. She just wanted to take a shower, but she knew she had to get back to work. Derek had paged her, and she knew he would worry if she didn't answer the page. She just couldn't let him see her like this.

"Put on your clothes," the man demanded, pushing her off the bed. He slid off the bed and began to dress himself. She quickly dressed herself. He grabbed her by the wrist, her phone still in his hand, and slowly walked over to the door. He unlocked the door and peeked outside. "We're clear." He dragged her into the empty hallway and headed near the stairway.

He kicked the back of her knees, and there she tumbled down the stairs. When she looked up, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Delay is the deadliest form of denial." - _C. Northcote Parkinson

The minutes and hours following a sexual assault are the most crucial. Survivors will want to shower, to wash away the filth, but it is important not to do so. It is absolutely imperative that a survivor not bathe or change clothing. Doing so will eliminate all important evidence that can be used to put the perpetrator behind bars. The best thing for a survivor to do is to go to the emergency room as soon as possible. A rape kit can be performed within 72 hours of the attack; most evidence will be gone after that time has passed.

Unfortunately, many survivors delay telling anyone about their attack. Many keep teep their attacks to themselves for a variety of reasons: they've been threatened, they're scared, and most commonly, they don't want to relive their attack.

A "Sexual Assault Evidence Collection Kit" is a highly invasive process, and it can last four to six hours. The last thing a survivor wants is for a stranger to pick and pry at their private parts after they've been attacked.

To make the whole situation more discouraging, there are hundreds of thousands unprocessed rape kits in the United States today. Many crime labs set these rape kits aside because "they're too expensive" or "they're not a priority." Actress and advocate, Mariska Hargitay, is standing up to change that. She, along with the Joyful Heart Foundation, are working to raise funds to end the rape kit backlog.

"_When you don't test a rape kit, it sends the message that's it's not a serious crime, and I'm beyond outraged," _said Mariska Hargitay.

And she has every right to be outraged. The entire nation should be outraged. It takes courage for a survivor to report her attack, to come forward, and to tell her story. There are numerous myths about sexual assault that have been constrained by society today. Many believe that women often lie about being raped or will falsely accuse someone. However, false rape reports make up only 2 percent or less of rape reports. Actually, 1 in 10 rapes will never be reported to the police.

Sexual assault survivors go through a similar experience to those who experience the loss of a loved one. We're all familiar with the five stages of grief.

The first step: denial.

"_It can't happen to me." _

"_It wasn't that bad."_

"_It wasn't rape."_

"_I'm fine." _

These are all statements sexual assault victims tell themselves for comfort. Like death, violence comes as a shock. It's not anticipated, and you can't prepare for it. Many feel as if they've lost part of themselves. Something was taken from them. They feel empty and their sense of safety is absent.

Many have the illusion that denial protects us, keeps us safe from the truth. Eventually, though, denial can destroy us…

* * *

Pain surged through every last limb in Meredith Grey's body. One thing was for sure, she knew she wasn't dying. She already knew what death felt like, because she'd already died once. Death was painless, peaceful. The body can only endure so much pain before it becomes too much to handle. The question becomes: how much pain can your body handle?

Sometimes Meredith wondered when her body would say enough is enough. She couldn't cry anymore. She lie motionless on the stairway, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, everything was a complete blur. For a moment, she had forgotten exactly how she had gotten there; the horrible assault that had just occurred ceased to exist. She was just lying there, alone, in a stairway at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. How she had gotten there no longer was important. In fact, nothing bore importance at that moment.

Her head spun. She felt like a child on the merry-go-round at the park. She twirled until she heard a voice call her name. "Meredith!" Meredith blinked a number of times, and soon Miranda Bailey's face came into focus. "What the hell happened! Are you all right, Grey?"

"I-I'm fine," Meredith stammered, getting on her knees and shifting her weight to her hands, and she stood stood up. A gush of blood rushed to her head, and her temples throbbed. "I just fell down the stairs, I guess."

"You just fell down the stairs?" Dr. Miranda Bailey placed her hands on her hips and studied Meredith from head to toe. "The question is _why _did you fall down the stairs? Were you feeling dizzy? Did you black out?"

"I was just in a hurry and running late. It's really nothing, Bailey," Meredith insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have patients I need to see."

Meredith tried to walk around Miranda, but Dr. Bailey was quick to stand in front of her. Dr. Bailey's eyes widened, and she stuck her nose up. "You're not seeing patients looking like that. For starters, you've got a huge gash in your head that needs to be stitched."

Meredith ran her hand over her forehead. Her hand was soon covered in blood.

"It's really not as bad as it looks," Meredith proceeded to insist. "Really, it's nothing I can't stitch myself. I'm a gifted surgeon, and I'm not your resident anymore, Bailey. I'm no longer _your _responsibility. Let me go. _Now!_"

"I can't and won't do that," Dr. Bailey sternly responded, folding her arms together. "You're coming with me to an exam room, and I'm ordering a head CT. You could have a concussion, and I'm not buying that you _just fell_, Meredith."

"Fine," Meredith spat, and she followed Dr. Bailey to the nearest exam room. "But you're not paging Derek for a consult. He can't know about this. Page anyone else in neuro."

"You want me to page the moron?" Bailey gave her a strange look.

"Yes, page the moron!" snapped Meredith, desperate not to have Derek see her like this. _Derek had paged her_, but her phone and pager were missing. She had no way to respond to him, and she knew that he would worry. Her iPad was in the Attendings' lounge, and she hadn't had a chance to clock in yet. Derek would see that and come searching for her.

Meredith's stomach tied into knots as she took a seat on the exam table. She'd been a patient in this hospital four times since she'd become a doctor. One of which she'd flatlined and died, then miraculously came back to life. Dr. Bailey had operated on her three times; her appendix, the time she flatlined and died, and when she donated part of her liver to her alcoholic, no-good father. Needless to say, Dr. Bailey had seen the parts of her that weren't so pretty.

Dr. Bailey always tried to act tough and controlling. That's why they'd nicknamed her the Nazi during her intern year. In reality, though, Dr. Bailey was no nazi. She used her powers for good, and she cared more than she would ever admit. Meredith knew that she and her fellow interns had given Bailey hell throughout the years, yet Bailey still watched over them. Bailey had raised them, and although they were no longer her babies, she still hovered over them to make sure they were all right.

As Bailey reached her hand over Meredith's forehead to begin stitching, Meredith flinched away. She closed her eyes. _He gripped tightly onto her ankles and pulled her across the floor, bashing her head into the wall and she blacked out. _

"Why're you so jumpy?" Dr. Bailey asked, suspiciously. She rose an eyebrow. "You look like you thought I was about to take a punch at you. Grey, you've done your share of driving me crazy over the years, but if I haven't hit you yet, I'm surely not gonna start now."

"I know," Meredith mouthed, not knowing how to explain her jumpiness. She knew that she couldn't tell Bailey the truth. _There's nothing to tell, _she told herself. _Nothing happened. _She'd just fallen down the stairs. People do that all the time.

"Okay, then," Dr. Bailey murmured, and proceeded to stitch Meredith's forehead wound. As she finished up, the door swung open and her stomach dropped. She glared furiously at Dr. Bailey.

"You paged me for a neuro consult, Bailey?" Derek looked at Bailey, then his mouth dropped when he saw Meredith sitting on the patient's exam table. "Oh, my God. What happened, Meredith?" He quickly rushed over to her and stroked his hand over the gash on Meredith's forehead.

"She _claims _that she just fell down the stairs," Dr. Bailey insisted, wryly.

"I told you _not _to page him," Meredith hissed dryly at Bailey. "Are you incapable of following instructions?"

"I can follow instructions just fine, but I wasn't about to page and entrust a moronic wannabe neurosurgeon to do your CT. Really, you should take it as a compliment, Grey. Because if I didn't like you, I would've paged him without hesitation," Dr. Bailey said. She turned to Derek, "You better hope she doesn't have a tumor or a brain bleed, because you can't operate."

"He can't operate anyway on me!" Meredith cried. "I'm his wife. We don't operate on family members, and besides, I told you, I. Am. Fine."

"You don't look fine," Dr. Bailey pointed out.

"She's right, Meredith, you don't," Derek noted. "Where have you been? I've been paging you for the last hour. There's a neuro patient who I had a consult with this morning who is experiencing sharp pains in her stomach. I'm thinking it may be appendicitis, so I needed a general consult."

"That's gotta suck," Meredith mumbled. Derek and Miranda gave her confused looks. Meredith widened her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that? You can't say it wouldn't suck to have appendicitis on top of a tumor."

"Yes, yes, it would suck," Derek agreed, nodding his head. "That still doesn't answer why you never answered my pages, texts or calls, Meredith."

"I seem to have misplaced my phone and pager," Meredith sighed. "I don't know where they are."

Derek froze and straightened his back. His eyes filled with concern as he watched Meredith. "Meredith, you're attached at the hip to both."

"I had them this morning, and then they were gone," Meredith shrugged. "It happens. People lose things all the time. I'm sure they'll turn up."

"Did you ever find a general consult?" Dr. Bailey asked, looking at Derek.

"I did not," Derek said. "I was going to page you, Dr. Bailey, right before you paged me."

"I'm on my way," Dr. Bailey said, leaving the room.

Derek tried to place his hands on Meredith's shoulder, but Meredith him pushed away. "Don't touch me!" she demanded, furiously. "Let's get this damn CT over so you can clear me to go back to work, okay?"

"Meredith," Derek said, and she could see the worry in his eyes. He crossed his arms together and stared at her. "You apparently fell down the stairs, and you're claiming you've lost your pager and cell phone. You never clocked in this morning; I checked. I know this is difficult for you to digest, but I'm a neurosurgeon, and I've seen several cases like this before…"

"Oh, you're the almighty neurosurgeon, aren't you?" Meredith snapped, rolling her eyes. "You see cases like this all the time, right? So, I'm a case, huh? Is that what you call every person who misplaces her cell phone and falls down the stairs? No, Derek. You're neuro-obsessed. You think that every person who does something the least bit crazy has a tumor!"

"Meredith," Derek shook his head slowly. "You're being completely unreasonable, and it's just...after your mother… Meredith, it was you who picked up on Adele right away…"

"You think I have _Alzheimer's_?" Meredith's mouth dropped wide open. "No, Derek. I would know if I had Alzheimer's. I'm fine, really. You know what, forget the CT. Just go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Derek stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Meredith, you're the one who's always insisting you have early-onset Alzheimer's every time you misplace your keys. Most patients who actually have the disease deny it. Can you see my concern now?"

The door swung open, and Alex Karev entered the room.

"Whoa, what happened, Mer?" were the first words out of Alex's head.

"She fell down the stairs," Derek answered for her. "What do you need, Karev?"

"Oh, Bailey said I could find Meredith in here. I found your phone and pager, Meredith. Thought you'd like them back," Alex said as he handed them to her.

"Thank you, Alex," Meredith smiled weakly. "Where did you find them?"

"Actually, they were in an on-call room," Alex said and snickered, looking at Derek. There was no humor in Derek's face, though. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he shot an anxious, confused look at his wife.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Someone asked if Meredith and Derek have Zola and Bailey. I mentioned in the very first chapter that this starts in early season nine. This is before she finds out she is pregnant. Zola is about 1 ½. Cristina is still in Minnesota.**

* * *

"_Reality denied comes back to haunt." - _Philip K. Dick

Denial is another form of lying. Oftentimes people deny something for so long that they actually begin to believe that it is true. In that aspect, they are lying to themselves. People deny reality for all kinds of reasons. Victims of sexual assault often deny their attacks because they don't want to be seen as less than human. They're afraid that people will look at them like they're a different person. They don't want pity from others. They don't want to believe that such a horrible thing has happened to them.

No one should have to feel like they're unworthy or undeserving of love. In reality, the survivors of sexual assault and violence are some of the strongest people on Earth.

Bottled behind denial is fear. They're afraid that they're not strong enough. Often times the survivor has been threatened by his or her attacker. The survivor lives in daily fear that they are in harm's way. Denial essentially creates a false sense of security, a sense of safety. According to _Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs_, without safety, we can't feel loved or like we belong. If we don't belong, then we have no self-esteem. Without these needs, we can't achieve self-actualization. Self-actualization gives us our creativity, morality, and ability to accept the facts. Sometimes, lying to ourselves and to those around us just seems like the easiest way out. Denial prevents a person from reaching self-actualization.

Survivors of sexual assault frequently try to keep their attacks from their significant others. They've been violated in an unimaginable way. They don't want to bestow that image into their loved one's heads. Some might fear their spouse isn't strong enough to know. They fear their partner will see them as dirty, and they will no longer want to be with them. It's easier to ignore it all and just try to go on like nothing happened.

With all lies come consequences. One lie turns into a multitude of lies, and it can be difficult to keep your story straight. While it may seem easier to keep the lie going, lies create bigger problems.

_The second stage: Anger _

Anger can be the result of a number of things. Survivors are often angry at themselves for not fighting harder to protect themselves. They might also be angry at those close to them for not protecting them. They're angry at their attacker violating them. A built-up of lies can only add surge to the anger...

* * *

Meredith's heart filled with pain as Derek's hurt eyes stared tearfully at her. He didn't say a word. Alex's jaw opened. "Uh, I'm just going to assume you weren't in the on-call room together."

"No, we weren't," Derek said in a raised, furious voice, looking at his wife with fury in his eyes. "What were you doing in an on-call room, Meredith? You weren't on-call last night."

Meredith didn't know how to respond. She couldn't believe that Derek thought she was cheating on him. After everything they'd gone through together, all the time trouble she'd gone through to trust him. He thought she was a cheater, and she couldn't find the strength to tell him the truth. She was humiliated, and while she knew Derek would try to support her if he knew what had happened, he would make her go to the police. Then, he would be in danger. Zola would be in danger. If they weren't already in grave danger. He couldn't know. She couldn't have him look at her like she was a victim. He couldn't know. No one could.

"Derek, it's not what…"

"Forget it. Don't answer that question. I don't want to know. I've been through this before, and if there's anything I learned from the last time, it is best I don't know. I thought you were different, Meredith. I thought…" He shook his head and turned around. "Now it all makes sense." He furiously exited the room.

Meredith slid off the exam table. "Derek!" she yelled after him.

"I can't look at you now, Meredith!" Derek hollered back. "We're done here!"

Two interns, a brunette female and a dark-skinned male, appeared behind her, and Meredith heard them whispering amongst themselves. Meredith whirled around and dictated, "What do you think you're doing? People are dying! Go save lives."

"Um, well, we're supposed to be on your service, Dr. Grey. We've been looking for you," said the tall brunette, Jo. Jo reminded Meredith of a dark-haired Izzie. She had a pretty face just like Izzie. Some might argue she was too pretty to be a doctor. Meredith wondered if Jo had paid her way through medical school by modeling. She remembered how that had backfired for Izzie. How a patient had recognized her once, and refused to be treated by her. Izzie had been told numerous times that she was too pretty to be a doctor. A problem Meredith never had. Nobody doubted her surgical abilities because her last name was Grey. Essentially, she had been blessed and cursed to have Ellis Grey as a mother.

Now, what would her mother think of her? Not that it mattered; her mother was dead. Her mother had always told her to be extraordinary, but the woman had no problem saying to her face that she was nothing but ordinary. At this moment, Meredith felt less than ordinary. She felt disgusting. She felt like curling up in a ball and dying.

Her husband was going to leave her because he thought she was cheating on him. He'd probably take Zola with him too, because she wasn't fit to raise a child. She'd go into a depression, and then she'd lose her job. On top of it all, she'd probably get Alzheimer's and forget who she was. Right now, Alzheimer's didn't seem so bad. Then, she wouldn't have to remember anything.

Alex was standing behind her, and she saw the concern in his face.

"I need you both out of my face, NOW. Go do scut!" she growled at the interns. They looked at each other, then back at her. "Go, now. I will page you if you're needed, which you won't be. GET. BE GONE!"

She could sense the terror in the interns' faces, which would normally give her a sense of gratification, but she felt bad for taking her anger out on them. She didn't want to face anyone right now. The interns left, and Meredith turned to Alex.

"Mer, what's going on?" Alex asked.

She walked back into the exam room to catch her breath.

"Alex, just go," she said. "You've already fucked enough up today, haven't you? Get out of my face."

"Okay, I'll get out of your face, but I'm not the one who was with someone other than my spouse in an on-call room. I'll leave now, if that's what you want, but I'm here if you need to talk. I'm not judging you, Mer," Alex shrugged, leaving Meredith alone.

What had she just done? She'd allowed her husband to walk away, thinking she was a cheater.

Now, Alex - her friend - thought she was a cheater too. She'd sent her interns away, who were supposed to be learning from her. Worst of all, she had patients she was supposed to being seeing. Now was when she was supposed to curl up in a ball and die.

She grabbed her iPad from the Attendings' lounge and logged into the system to check her day's line-up. Then, her phone started to ring. It was Hunt.

"Grey," she answered quickly.

"Dr. Grey, there must be some mistake, because I have two interns who are telling me that you sent them away to do scut. Now, I'm looking at your lineup for the day, and it looks like you haven't checked on any of your patients today. What's going on?"

"The interns must have misheard me. I told them to meet me in room 408 to check on one of my post-ops. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding," Meredith told Owen.

"Okay, I'll relay the message to them," Dr. Hunt replied, though Meredith picked up on the hint of confusion in his voice.

She continued working, seeing patients, and trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. Work helped to ease her mind; it was almost therapeutic, and she'd almost forgotten about everything that had happened that morning. Everything was going smoothly until one of her patients needed an emergency intestine surgery. Wilson had scrubbed in.

The first flashback happened when she cut into the patient's abdomen.

_He was on top of her. His rough hands hold her down. She's unable to move. She was unable to breathe._

She gasped for air and panted.

"Are you all right, Dr. Grey?" Jo asked her. Meredith looked up and saw Hunt was in the gallery.

She avoided the question and proceeded with the operation.

The second flashback was more intense.

_He was thrusting inside her, and every ounce of her body was in pain. "Please," she whimpered. "Please stop." Only, nothing came out of her mouth. Her mouth was dry. The world was spinning. She wanted to scream, but her voice was hoarse._

She'd lost her focus. The room was momentarily blurry.

"Dr. Grey!" Hunt's voice came over the speaker. "Are you okay?"

She took three deep breaths and regained her focus to the surgery. "Just fine!" she yelled. She closed her eyes and breathed. "_Focus," _she told herself, and she proceeded with the surgery.

_A glare of light shined in her eyes. He was thrusting faster and harder into her. The room was rotating faster and faster. Her stomach twisted in knots. She couldn't focus with the dizziness._

And everything dark.

"Meredith, Meredith!" she heard Owen's voice; he was kneeling above her body.

"The patient," Meredith mouthed. "I have to continue with the surgery or she'll die."

"I've got her, Grey," Bailey said. "Now, get the hell out of this O.R. and get your head examined like you were supposed to earlier."

Meredith's heart fell into the pit of her stomach when she realized Dr. Baily had already taken over her surgery. Owen took out his hand and helped her up, then guided her out of the room.

"Miranda told us everything, Meredith," Owen told her. "About how you fell down the stairs earlier, and how Derek was supposed to run a head C.T. on you earlier, except there's no record of him ever doing so. I don't know what you said to him to get out of doing it, but you just passed out in the middle of surgery. I think it's critical that we get the C.T. done as soon as possible. I paged Derek, but he's not responding to my pages. I'm going to get you set up myself, okay?"

"I'm fine," Meredith said hurriedly as she found her balance, then walked out of the operating room.

"Meredith Grey, you just passed out in the middle of surgery, and you're going to try and tell me you're fine?" Owen followed after her.

She knew that he had a point. She wasn't getting out of this.

"Look, I know you're stubborn as hell, and I get that. You were in a plane crash just a few months ago, and compared to everyone else on the plane, you suffered very minor injuries. You could have a brain bleed that's just affecting you now," Hunt told her.

"Oh, so you're a neurosurgeon now, too?" Meredith rolled her eyes. "I spent a large amount of my residency in Neuro. I think I'm aware of the possibilities. Thanks for the info, though, Chief."

"No need for the attitude," Owen said.

"I'll have the C.T. if it'll ease your mind, though I'm just telling you that it'll be a waste of hospital dollars," Meredith sighed, crossing her arms.

They passed Derek on their way to radiology, but he kept walking past them as if he didn't see them.

"Shepherd, I've been paging you!" Owen called after him, but Derek continued walking without acknowledging either Meredith or Owen. Owen turned to Meredith. "What the Hell was that? Are you two fighting?"

"He's probably just really busy," Meredith shrugged, though she knew he wasn't. He was pissed. The only time he avoided her was when he was mad at her. Since they had gotten married, there had only been one time he'd completely avoided her presence – after she had tampered with his Alzheimer's trial. He hadn't looked at her for weeks, and that was nothing compared to this. How was she supposed to explain herself to him if he wouldn't even look at her? Derek was more stubborn than she was. She knew he'd come around eventually and have to talk to her. He always did. _No running. _It was on the Post-It.

"Too busy to notice you? Normally you two are all over each other, so it's pretty clear that he's upset with you about something. Look, I know that you're Cristina's friend, and you aren't my biggest fan right now, but we can still be friends."

"You're the chief, Dr. Hunt. We're not friends. We never were, and we never will be," Meredith responded harshly.

She soon rested motionless in the CT scan machine. She felt chilled and claustrophobic. Her breathing quickened as Hunt rolled her back and prepared for the machine to take images of her brain. He'd paged another neurologist in the building to examine the pictures of her brain when they were ready.

She felt like she was on the Tilt-a-World at the amusement park, and not in a good way. The way you felt after riding the Tilt-a-World for the first time. Or, after you had just inhaled an entire container of chili cheese fries. Her stomach was tied in knots. Her heart had never pounded against her chest harder. All the blood in her body felt like it was going to her head. Her temples throbbed. She closed her eyes as the pain in her temples worsened. She tried to breathe through her nose, and then exhale through her mouth – a technique she'd learned in medical school that was supposed to help a person relax. Only, it wasn't working. She then resorted to tensing individual muscles in her body and releasing the tension manually, beginning with her hands. That wasn't working either.

_He was inside her; his filth was inside her. His dirty hands were running all over her naked body. He pressed his lips against hers and ran his tongue around her mouth. He ran his hand through her hair and was smiling creepily down upon her. He pushed harder inside her. Her body had gone completely numb. She was drowning all over again. _

"Meredith," an unfamiliar voice spoke her name, and she looked up. She'd seen him before, but they'd never been formally introduced. She knew that he was another neurologist. Derek often commented on his lack-of brain activity, considering he was a neurologist. "I have your C.T. images here, and from what I can tell, everything appears to be normal."

"Let me see those," Meredith snapped, ripping the papers from the doctor's hand to examine the scans for herself. She looked at the images of her brain, and he was right, everything looked normal. She looked up at Hunt. "See, I told you. I'm fine."

"Dr. Hunt told me that you passed out in the middle of surgery. Although your C.T. isn't showing anything, I would like to perform some more in-depth tests to make sure everything is all right."

"I'm not interested in your services. I'm fine," Meredith growled, taking the papers with her as she left the room. She hustled far away from radiology and found herself alone in a supply closet. She sat down on the floor and pulled out her iPad, then pressed the FaceTime app. She pushed Cristina's name, praying she would answer. She needed her best friend now more than ever.

"Meredith, I've been waiting for you to call all day!" Meredith had never been happier to see Cristina's face appear on her tablet.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not measured by sadness. It is far better to take things as they come with patience and equanimity." – Carl Jung_

After something horrible happens, it is only natural that a person feels sad. It is only natural that darkness can take over their soul. However, even after the most tragic of tragedies occurs, no one person is sad at each moment. While a person is grieving, there are moments where suddenly everything seems okay. Sometimes that moment can be a person's first waking moment. You open your eyes, and for just a brief moment, you forget that you're sad. You forget that something horrible happened to you. You forgot that you lost a piece of you.

In other instances, it can be when you see the familiar face of a close friend who doesn't know about your pain. You see their face light up when they see you, and suddenly it's like everything is normal. Nothing has changed.

Distractions occur after tragedies to distort the pain, to make everything feel okay...even if it's just for a moment. There's a reason in every tragic playwright, there is always a moment of comic relief. The same applies to real life tragedies. It's important to embrace these moments, because they are often so short lived. A person who has experienced a massive amount of darkness in her lifetime knows this well.

The five stages of grief spiral together in a never-ending circle. They often overlap, and a person experiences each step in phases. They can also go back and forth between the stages.

_The third stage: bargaining. _

Anger and bargaining can easily overlap one another, particularly in the case of victims of sexual assault. The survivor is angry at themselves, at their attacker, at the people who didn't protect them. Going through their mind is also all the preventative actions they could have taken to prevent everything from happening.

_What if I'd just kept on walking?_

_What if I'd known better?_

_If only I'd fought him off…_

_If only I'd gotten away…_

_I should have known better…_

The healing process can be a very lengthy process, especially for a person who has been through so much darkness already… just when you've convinced yourself that everything will finally be all right… and then darkness hits again. Life is full of ups and downs.

* * *

As Meredith looked at Cristina's face through the iPad, all of a sudden, everything felt normal. The day's events seemed to disappear. She was talking to her best friend. Her person. The one person who had been there for her through it all. She had been there when Derek wasn't. Even now, though thousands of miles separated them, they still talked every day. Cristina was the one person in Meredith's life who remained constant. She was the one person who never changed. Even though they had grown apart; even though she was in Minnesota and Meredith was still in Seattle, Cristina was still Cristina. Cristina would always be Cristina, and Meredith knew she would always be able to count on that.

"You're never going to believe what my boss made me do today. He sent me home for R&R? Do you know what that means? Rest and relaxation. Cristina Yang does not R&R. Who does this think guy think he is? Guess how I spent my day? I spent my day googling the Mall of America. Did you know they have a roller coaster inside the mall?" Cristina was rambling, and Meredith was found herself smiling, laughing lightly, and listening to every word Cristina spoke. She'd never focused so intently Cristina's words before. Their conversations usually consisted of Cristina rambling and Meredith rambling about hers. Sometimes they commented on what each other was saying, but the majority of the time they didn't hear what the other was saying. They were so caught up in their own lives.

Meredith generally was thinking about what she was going to tell Cristina as Cristina spoke. Today, Meredith didn't know what to tell her. She usually tried to keep Cristina up-to-date with what was happening at the hospital. Lately, her mind had been on Derek's hand. Callie had been devising a massive plan on how she would fix his hand. It killed Meredith to know that he couldn't operate. Though, somehow, it seemed to bother her more than it did him. He played it off like he was okay never operating again. Like he was fine just doing consults. Meredith was the one constantly pushing him to allow Callie to try another surgery, to try harder. She knew deep down Derek wanted to operate again, but it was easier for him not to get his hopes up. He saw the world in black and white, after all.

"So, what's new at Seattle Grace Mercy Death?" Cristina asked, and Meredith held back a laugh. If anyone could bring a smile to her face in her darkest hour, it was Cristina. Cristina was right about the hospital. Working at this hospital seemed to be a death sentence.

"You know, if they ever decide to rename this hospital, I'm recommending they name it Seattle Grace Mercy Death," Meredith laughed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Oh, no. What happened now?" Cristina asked; her eyes were widened.

"It's more like, what didn't happen?" sighed Meredith, shaking her head. The day's events recollected in her head, and her throat swelled as she fought tears. She was fighting back tears, but a tear escaped from her teardrop and rolled down her cheek. She wiped the tear with her hand, losing her grip on the iPad.

"Mer, what's wrong? You're awfully dark. Where are you? A supply closet?" Meredith could suddenly sense the worry in Cristina's voice. "Did someone die? Are Derek and Zola okay?"

"Zola is fine," Meredith replied, trying to swallow the coiled lump in her throat.

"And Derek's not? Oh, no. Did Callie kill him in surgery? Wait, you don't die from having surgery on your hand, do you? I know there's always a risk with every surgery, but...Mer?"

The tears wouldn't stop flowing. They soon stained her face. She sniffled the moisture through her nostrils. "Derek thinks I'm cheating on him!" she blurted with no warning.

"What?" Cristina gasped loudly. "Why would Derek think that? I mean, I understand why he might be a little insecure after the whole thing with Addison, but you're not Addison. Wait, you're not cheating on him, are you?"

"Of course not!" she shrieked. "I would never cheat on Derek. At least not on purpose!"

"Wait, what?" Cristina squinted weirdly. "How do you not cheat on someone on purpose? Did you or did you not have another guy's peepee in your va-jay-jay?" Meredith remained silent. Her mind was blank. "Oh, my God. You did! Whose? Were you drunk? Did the guy drug you? I need details!"

"Cristina, shut the hell up." Meredith's voice was hoarse but filled with fury. Without warning, she ended the call. She slid back to the far corner of the closet and wrapped her arms around her legs. Cristina's words had put everything in a whole new perspective for her. She had been touched by a man who wasn't Derek. She'd been touched in places that only Derek had touched her for the last four years. Those were the parts of her that were supposed to only be seen by her husband. She had messed up. She should have fought harder. She shouldn't have let him touch her. The first red flag should have been when she didn't recognize the guy. If only she'd kept on walking. Now, Derek would never forgive her. Derek was right. She had physically cheated on him.

She coddled herself into a ball and just allowed herself to cry. Everything she had would soon be gone. She would be left with nothing.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the supply closet's door open. She slowed her breathing, hoping that whoever was there wouldn't notice her.

"Mer?" she looked up and saw Alex above her. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she snarled.

"No, I gotta say you don't," observed Alex, crouching down next to her. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," she murmured. "I just want it all to go away. I wish none of this would have happened. I really messed up, Alex."

"Wish none of what would have happened?" asked Alex, placing his hand around her shoulder. She flinched and jerked away from him. "Come on, Mer. Talk to me. Whatever you tell me stays between us. I promise."

"How am I supposed to believe that? You haven't proved to be the best at keeping your mouth shut in the past," noted Meredith, taking a deep breath. She crossed her arms tightly and looked into Alex's eyes; she was surprised with how worried he looked. She remembered the Alex she'd met just over five years ago. That Alex wouldn't have cared if she was crying in a supply closet. That Alex would have cracked some inappropriate joke. He wouldn't have tried to get her to talk to him. Alex Karev really had changed. He had grown up..

"I know I've screwed up in the past, and I'm sorry. I really want to change. I'm not a resident anymore, and my life doesn't revolve around being selected as the next chief resident. I'm your friend, Mer, just give me another chance to prove it to you," Alex told her, rubbing his hand on her back. "You definitely look like you could use a friend right now, and now that Cristina is gone, George is dead, and Izzie is...God knows where, I'm all you have left. We're the last two remaining of our group."

"You know, you're right," Meredith shook her head, sighing shallowly. "I should have left, too. I shouldn't have tried to get you to stay. Derek and I should have just moved to Cambridge, then none of this would have happened…"

"You mean that you never would have cheated on him?" asked Alex.

She bit her lip. "It's not what you think," she whispered.

"Mer, what happened? Derek isn't exactly the type of guy you cheat on, yet Addison managed to cheat on him, and now you too?"

"It's not like that," she mouthed. "It's not like that at all. I-I didn't."

"Wait, you didn't cheat on him? Why not come out and say that then?"

"I-I...Alex, if you say a word of this to anyone, I'll fucking kill you," she said, still debating on whether or not to tell him the truth.

"You've got my word," promised Alex. "I swear, I won't say a word to anyone. Not a soul."

"You probably won't believe me anyway," she mumbled.

"Well, I've never known Meredith Grey to be a liar other than when she was trying to protect someone," shrugged Alex, giving her a weak, comforting smile.

"I...I was attacked," she whispered nervously. "Earlier today...in an on-call room. There was a stranger who was posed as a resident. H-He told me to direct him to an on-call room, s-so I did...and then he attacked. I just...faked...falling down the stairs earlier today, because I was so...so….so ashamed. I was ashamed I didn't fight him off. Oh, Alex. I'm pathetic. I'm so weak. I just wanna die." The tears gushed from her eyes, and she fell into Alex's arms. He hesitantly massaged her shoulder, and she allowed him to.

"Oh, my God, Mer. You're not pathetic at all. You're incredibly strong; you're the strongest person I know; you survived. You're not going to die now. Now is not the time to give up; you're a mom now, so you can't just go drown yourself, okay? After everything you've gone through in your life, you can't give up now. You're a survivor. If anyone in this world is a survivor, it's you. You've survived it all," Alex said confidently.

"What's the point?" Meredith shook her head. "Alex, what's the fucking point? Bad things happen, and then I try to convince myself that I'm bright and shiny and everything will be okay. After the plane crash, it was _I _who tried to keep everyone strong. I said everyone would be all right. I said Sloan wouldn't die, and then he did. Then, I was the one who convinced you to stay here. I convinced Derek that we couldn't leave. I tried to convince Cristina to stay, which obviously didn't work. I'm done being bright and shiny, Alex. I'm done pretending. Bad things happen to me, and that's why I'm dark and twisty."

"Meredith, did he rape you?"

Meredith remained silent. She buried her face in Alex's chest, gathering a whiff of his McGraw cologne. She allowed her tears to bleed into his shirt.

"Meredith, you need to have a rape kit done. You haven't showered, have you?"

She bent her neck, wiped her tears away, and she shook her head. Meredith breathed, filling her lungs with air, and fervently stared into Alex's eyes.

"I can't do a rape kit. If someone in the hospital finds out, they'll contact the police. The man said that...he said that if I called the police, then I wouldn't get to see Zola graduate high school. I can't put her in danger. I can't put Derek in danger. I was stupid to tell you. You cannot tell anyone. Do you hear me, Alex Karev?"

"Legally, they can't call the police unless you say they can, and we can get around the system without anyone else finding out. I'll perform the rape kit and then run it through as a Jane Doe. Then, we'll at least have collected the evidence in case you change your mind. Come on, Mer. You're a doctor. You know as well as I know that there's only so much time you have to collect the evidence, and chances are if this guy did this to you, he'll do it to another person. You wouldn't want him to hurt another woman, would you? She might not be as strong as you are." Alex took her hand and helped her stand. "I promise not to tell anyone unless you want me to."

"I can't have you do the rape kit," replied Meredith. "I-I can't. I'm sorry. You're my friend, and the thought of you seeing me...like that...I know we're doctors, but I don't want any man to look at me like that right now. At this point, I can't even imagine being with Derek again…"

The thought made her nauseous. The thought of Derek seeing her naked, filthy body made her want to vomit.

"What if I get an intern to do it? I'll put a screen over your face, so they won't know it's you. Would that be better? You have to collect the evidence before it's too late."

"Fine," she murmured reluctantly. "We'll do it."

"And afterward, I'll help you fix things with Derek," offered Alex.

"Derek can't know," she whispered, pleadingly. "He can't, Alex. You will not tell him."

"I think you're making a mistake by not telling him. He'll understand. If anyone will understand, it's him, but he won't hear about it from me. No one will."

"Good."


	7. Chapter 7

_They say doctors make the worst patients… _

Mostly everyone becomes a patient at some point during his or her lifetime. It's part of our regular routine as human beings in the 21st Century. There are generally two types of people in the world: the person who goes to the doctor over every sore throat, and the person who wait until the extreme happens. The latter are the ones who usually end up in the O.R. in emergency surgery at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital.

However, the tables are a little different when you yourself are a doctor. You're surrounded day in and day out by other doctors. They spend their days taking care of others, so it's only natural they take care of each other, too. While professionals in any other career setting might be able to put off having a sore throat checked out, having a seemingly harmless bullet removed from their flesh, or having a rape kit done after a brutalizing crime, it isn't so easy when you're a doctor and have hundreds of medical eyes around you each day.

Fear is a central reason for avoiding the exam room. We fear that we'll have a blood exam, and the test results will come back positive for some terrible, ugly disease. We're afraid to have that lump on our chest biopsied, because the results may come back cancerous. Chances are it's benign, right, so why waste the time going to the doctor? We live in fear, even though we know that it's better to get checked out sooner rather than later. It could save our life. Or, in the case of a sexual assault victim, save another person's life.

It may not make sense to an outsider why a victim of sexual assault wouldn't want to be examined. In fact, it's what makes logical sense, right? A rape kit is the only evidence, aside from the victim's word, that can put a rapist away. It's very difficult to prove a case solely on hearsay, so it's crucial that the forensic evidence exist.

* * *

Everything felt so unreal as she sat on the edge of an exam chair for the second time that day. For a moment, she flashed back to that morning, when Bailey had found her lying at the bottom of the stairway. _"What the hell happened, Grey?" _Bailey's words replayed in her head. What the hell had happened to her? Meredith's head ached. She just wanted to take some sleeping pills and lie down and go to sleep. As she sat on the edge of the bed, Meredith tried to remember the last time she had felt this horrible; this worthless; and this disgusting.

There had been a time that she was the laughing stock of her family. When she was in college, she'd lived quite the partying lifestyle. Yet, she still managed to make it to all her classes and do relatively well without studying. The medical terminology was instilled in her brain. When she was a child, she could remember her mother talking about teratomas and pseudoaneurysms. So, since she was already familiar with the terminology, learning medical definitions had been much easier for her than other medical students.

Growing up, Meredith was never a bright and shiny person. In high school, she tried to push as many people away as possible. She wore loads of black, dyed her hair an exotic pink color, and tried her best to be _weird_. She didn't care what people thought about her; and she certainly hadn't cared if they liked her. She learned at a very early age that she didn't need people in her life. Perhaps it all stemmed back to the fact that her mother had never been there. Her mother had always been working, leaving her in daycare or once she was in school, with nannies. She learned to fend for herself, which shaped her as a whole.

Her residency had changed her. Meeting Cristina, Alex, and specifically, Derek, changed her. Suddenly, she had "people." She'd never had someone to call her "person" before Cristina. She'd never had a man who told her that he loved her. The words "I love you" seemed so surreal to her before. Derek Shepherd was the first man who she had told she loved. All the men before had been nothing more than fuck buddies. That's all she'd wanted and expected from Derek. Of course, she hadn't known that he would turn out to be her boss, and she certainly hadn't expected him to want to see her again. This was all before she knew he was married.

Meredith had put her "dirty ex-mistress" past to bed years ago. She rarely thought about how she and Derek had started. Instead, she focused on the now. The present, where she had a beautiful baby girl, and a loving husband. The present that had been so perfect. That was, until an evil man had stepped into her life and taken away everything she knew to be good in the world. A horrible man, who she didn't even know, had pushed her into an on-call room and taken away her sense of dignity. He'd hurt her in ways Meredith didn't even know she could be hurt.

Throughout her life, Meredith had felt her share of emotional and physical pain. She'd been led to believe that her father had walked out on her and her mother, when in fact it had been her mother who had the affair then left her father, taking her across the country. At the age of thirteen, she'd had a very distinct view on love and life in general. At the time, she'd thought love was stupid, and Juliet was an idiot for falling in love with the one guy she knew she couldn't have. She'd decided that love, like life, was all about making decisions, rather than fate. Meredith had never been a believer in fate, until she met Derek. She also hadn't encountered real pain until she'd met Derek, because before Derek, she'd never permitted herself to get attached to anyone.

As a young child, Meredith learned becoming attached to someone was possibly the worst thing you could do to yourself. If you became attached to someone, then they would leave you and in turn, cause you pain. It was better never to get attached, which was why Meredith sought sex, not love. Sex was all fun and games until feelings started to play a role in the mix. Meredith remembered the day that Addison appeared from thin air.

"_And you must be the woman who's been screwing my husband."_

It felt like a knife had been stabbed into the core of her heart. Her heart bled into her stomach. She remembered feeling like she was about to vomit as she stormed out of the hospital into the Seattle downpour.

"Open your mouth," said Alex, holding a swab in his hand.

"W-Why?" she stammered, tightly holding her mouth closed.

"So I can perform the oral exam. It's kinda impossible to do without looking at your face, and you don't have to take your clothes off for me to do it. Open your mouth, Meredith."

"He-uh-didn't penetrate my mouth," she told Alex with a slight hesitance. She was a doctor, who was formerly notorious for screwing boys like whores on tequila. That was beside the point. Words like "penetrate" weren't supposed to be awkward for her to use. Sexual terminology had been part of her every day vocabulary for so many years.

"And you know as well as I know that there could be other fluids present, such as saliva. Open your mouth already so I can get a swab of your saliva. Mer, I don't want to be doing this any more than you do, but you know that we gotta do it. It'd be helpful if you would cooperate with me."

Their eyes locked. It felt as if Alex was reading into her thoughts. He knew her well enough that if she could have her way, she go about her day like nothing happened. He also knew that it had taken her an amount of courage to come forward and open up to him. Alex typically wasn't the warm, fuzzy person who let women cry on his shoulder. Though, he cried on hers before, back when he thought Izzie was going to die.

Meredith was the person everyone dumped their problems onto; at one time, she had been the "president of people with crappy lives." Later, she'd just become the voice of wisdom. She'd seen worse than most, so people felt comfortable talking to her. She was awful at talking about her own problems, though. For so long, she spent so much time fixing other people's lives that she hadn't cared about her own. Then, after they adopted Zola, everything seemed to fit into place. She finished her residency, passed her boards, and then, of course, the plane crash happened.

Just when everything seemed to fit into place, it fell apart at once. That was just how her life happened to worked.

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, permitting Alex to stick the swab in her mouth. Meredith gagged a moment after Alex inserted the swab.

"Geez, Mer, quit being such a baby," laughed Alex. "I'm not even sticking the swab in that far. Most of the kids whose throats I examine don't gag."

"Oh-just-shut-up." Her words slurred together because the swab was still in her mouth.

Alex laughed, looking into her eyes, as he pulled the swab out and stuck the collected evidence in the bag he'd grabbed. "Okay, well, I'm going to find an intern. You get ready, and once your face is covered shoot me a text."

"You know, I don't think I like the idea of an Intern doing the exam. These interns...they're not very bright."

"You're right, and we could ask a nurse to do it, but no nurse in this hospital is going to be dumb enough to fall for not being able to see your face. An Intern will do whatever I say, because like you said, they're not that bright."

Meredith nodded, realizing Alex was right. Before Alex left the room, Meredith felt her phone buzz in her pocket. _Derek? _her heart jolted as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Her heart sank as she saw the picture message on her screen.

It was a picture of Zola and Sofia playing with blocks at the hospital daycare. The photo had clearly been taken through the window. Zola was wearing the same outfit she'd been wearing this morning when Meredith dropped her off at daycare, so it was obvious that the picture was from today. It was the caption that stood out to Meredith, though. The caption read "_Zola misses her mommy." _

The text had been sent from a blocked number.

"Mer, you okay?" Alex asked, staring intently at Meredith while holding his clipboard in his hand. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I have to go," Meredith said quickly, clenching tightly onto her phone. "We'll have to finish the, uh, rape kit later." She rushed out of the exam room.

"Meredith! Where are you going? You know we don't have that long of a time window!" Alex called after her, but Meredith started to run away from him. She stood in front of the elevator, and she repeatedly pressed the down button with rapidness. _Come on, elevator, _she thought, but she didn't have the patience to wait. She had to get downstairs to the daycare immediately.

Meredith ran toward the staircase, and she raced down the four flights of stairs to the daycare level. She looked through the window, searching for Zola. Her eye stopped at Sofia, who was playing with a little girl. It only took Meredith a moment to realize that the little girl wasn't Zola. Meredith's heart started to race. She didn't see Zola in the daycare. The little girl was nowhere in sight. Meredith looked around her surroundings, and that's when she realized she was standing in the same spot the photo that had been sent to her was taken. However, there was no one in sight. Her heart pounded rapidly, blood poured through her veins in sheer panic.

She barged into the daycare, demanding, "Where's Zola? Where's my baby girl?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Just a quick reminder that this is set in SEASON NINE, before Arizona cheats on Callie!**

* * *

"_When it rains it pours. Maybe the art of life is to convert tough times to great experiences: we can choose to hate the rain or dance in it." - Joan Marques_

You've probably heard the idiom, _"when it rains, it pours." _At _Grave Stone _Memorial, formerly Seattle Grace Mercy _Death _Hospital, the idiom always seemed to be true (no pun intended). This was the place where bad things happened, time and time again.

Life is historically full of ups and downs. We often wonder why bad things happen to good people. Why some people's lives are topped with all the devastation, and why it seems like nothing bad ever happens to some people. "Life is supposed to make sense," said no one ever. Life is as complicated as the bad events that happen to us during our journey.

"_Life is a journey, not a destination," _said Ralph Waldo Emerson. All humans being arrive at the same destinations one day: death. You've probably heard someone in your life say, "We live and then we die." When a person dies, a common question is "How did they die?" You never hear someone ask at a funeral, "How did they live?" In retrospect, though, how a person died isn't what is important. What really matters is how they lived; the difference they made while they walked the Earth. Some people go through so much more than others during their life's journey. Some people have easier lives, and others don't. It's the ones who have to struggle throughout their life's journey who become models for the rest of us. They're the ones who make it into high school history books. They are the ones who become our heroes.

"_If there's a crisis, you don't freeze, you move forward. You get the rest of us to move forward. Because you've seen worse. You've survived worse, and you know we'll survive too."_

- Derek Shepherd, "Elevator Love Letter"

* * *

The pit of Meredith's stomach throbbed achingly when she realized her daughter was not in the hospital day care. Her heart pounded against her chest as she double and triple checked the room. Zola was nowhere to be found. Her mind instantly traveled to a dark and twisty place. Her rapist had managed to kidnap Zola. He'd taken the picture of her, and then he snatched her. Meredith's heart pounded faster and she couldn't breathe. She gasped for air as she looked around for a daycare supervisor.

"Meredith, what's wrong?" she heard a voice behind her. She turned around and saw one of the women who worked in the daycare, Leslie.

"Code pink!" Meredith cried. "Code pink!" She immediately noticed the confusion that swept over Leslie's face. She just stood there. "Why are you just standing there?" Meredith erratically screamed. "My baby is gone! She's been kidnapped."

"Calm down, Meredith. Didn't Derek tell you? He picked her up about twenty minutes ago. See, I have his signature in the book right here." Leslie pulled out the sign-out book and showed Meredith that Derek had in fact signed Zola out exactly twenty minutes earlier. Meredith intently dissected the signature to confirm it was in fact Derek's. The signature did indeed resemble her husband's, but Meredith couldn't help but have doubts. Her attacker had known so many details about her family. What if he'd managed to forge Derek's signature?

"You're absolutely positive it was Derek who picked her up? I mean, you physically saw him?" Meredith to relax herself, but she couldn't. The thought of Zola in any kind of danger terrified her. The thought of anything happening to her little girl was a mother's worst nightmare.

"Of course I'm sure that it was Derek who picked her up. It's impossible to miss his hair porn," Leslie smiled gently, and normally Meredith would have found the "hair porn" comment hilarious. Today, she just frowned with worry. Leslie raised an eyebrow, noting the fear on Meredith's face. "Are you okay, Meredith? You look awfully frightened."

"I'm fine," Meredith snapped, and then she dashed out of the room. She bent over and placed her hands against her knees. Her anxiety levels rose as her breathing quickened. She tried to control herself, but she couldn't catch her breath. Her heart raced. Derek had Zola. Derek also thought she was a cheater. Her thoughts wouldn't stop as endless possibilities crossed her mind. What if Derek had taken Zola away from her? What if she never saw Zola again? Derek was known for doing irrational things when he was pissed. Meredith remembered how he wouldn't talk to her after he found out about how she'd messed with the Alzheimer's trial. He'd said he couldn't have a child with her, that he couldn't trust her.

"_Oh no," _Meredith mouthed to herself. What if Derek had left Seattle? Derek had family all over the United States, specifically on the east coast. Not too long ago, he had been pressed on the idea of them moving out east to be closer to his family. Derek was never keen on involving his family in their personal drama; however, Meredith knew that Derek still talked to his mother on a regular basis. It was his sisters who he shut out. Derek's mother had been the one to tell him Meredith was the one for him. She'd even given him her ring to give to Meredith; the ring that Meredith never even wore. Meredith swallowed, thinking of how Mrs. Shepherd would realize what a horrible mistake she made if Derek did in fact tell her that he believed Meredith had cheated on her.

Meredith pulled out phone and impatiently clicked on Derek's name. His phone rang five times, then she heard his voicemail.

"_Hello, you've reached Dr. Derek Shepherd. I'm currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep." _

_Beep. _"Derek!" Meredith shouted into her phone. "Answer your damn phone. Look, I know you're pissed at me now, but just hear me out. It's not what you think., I swear. Please, don't take Zola away from me. I love you. Please, call me back," Meredith's voice cracked as she spoke. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, then added before hanging up, "And tell ZoZo her mommy loves her."

The minute she ended the call, she quickly sent Derek a text. _Derek, call me, _she typed. She waited about three seconds before sending another. _Don't take Zola away from me. _

"Meredith?" a familiar voice from behind startled Meredith as she'd just finished pressing the "send" button. Her body jerked anxiously, as she looked up to see Callie standing in front of her.

Meredith inhaled a deep breath of air. "What are you doing here?" she snapped without thinking.

"Um, I work here, and I'm here to pick up my daughter from daycare," Callie said slowly, giving Meredith a strange look. Meredith's gut told her that Callie had spoken with Derek, and she would soon find out her gut feeling was right as Callie continued, "I think the real question is: what are _you _doing here?" She paused then shook her head. "You know, I don't normally like to get into other people's private lives. I'm not that type of person, and I've kept plenty of secrets for you over the years. I even said your panties were mine to cover your ass. But, really, Meredith? After all Derek has been through, you go and cheat on him? He bends over backwards for you, and he even forgave you after you got him blacklisted with the FDA. This is how you repay him? By cheating?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," growled Meredith. She clenched her fists together and met eyes with Callie. Meredith had never felt so small before. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. She was so tiny compared to Callie's large structure. Callie squinted her eyes; she had the expression of a blood hunter's on her face, and Meredith felt like Callie had chosen her as her prey.

"Oh, huh, I have no idea what I'm talking about? In case you've forgotten, I know what it's like to be cheated on. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but I'll never forget what it felt like when I found out that George had cheated on me. Don't tell me know I don't know what I'm talking about. I know exactly how Derek feels now. Though, Derek's already been cheated on! I can't imagine being cheated on twice. If you think he's going to forgive you this time, you're mental. Absolutely mental!" Callie roared, and Meredith swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Meredith's eyes burned. She could tell her eyes were bloodshot.

Meredith had never felt so crappy in her life. People had said awful things to her in the past; her mother, her father, and even Derek. She'd felt pretty shitty about herself and her life. But she'd gotten past everything. She'd grown stronger, and she'd moved on, but suddenly everything she had worked to build had vanished. Everything she had built had disappeared in the blink of an eye-all because of that man; that horrible, awful man. Meredith had never wished anyone dead before, except maybe her mother and her father, and she'd felt awful about that. She'd never personally imagined killing them, though. At that moment, in her mind, Meredith pictured taking a knife and slicing it across her rapist's throat. He needed to die for what he'd done.

"Mer, there you are!" Alex's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I've been looking for you."

"Go away, Alex," Meredith sneered stiffly. She looked away, but she couldn't avoid Callie's eyes.

"You and Karev, really?" Callie asked then looked at Alex. "You're disgusting. Don't you have any morals? I never thought you'd stoop this low. If you'll excuse me, I have to pick up my daughter now." She entered the daycare, leaving Alex and Meredith alone.

"What the hell is her problem?" Alex demanded furiously, turning to Meredith.

"Oh, she thinks I'm cheating on Derek with you," Meredith replied in a very raspy and gloomy voice, the tone she only used when she was feeling dark and twisty.

"The hell! Mer, why don't you just tell everyone the truth? I don't know why you're letting people jump to conclusions. You need to stand up for yourself," Alex insisted, then added, "You need to stop letting people walk all over you."

"Shut up, Alex, and don't tell me what the hell I should or shouldn't do. Now, you can either take me to the airport and stop telling me what to do, or you can get the hell away from me," Meredith turned around, gazing into Alex's confused eyes. She knew what he was thinking. She hadn't been on a plane since the crash. And that's when it hit her. Neither had Derek. She didn't know what to think anymore.

Alex looked blankly into her eyes, and she knew was he was thinking. He was thinking she was going to go visit Cristina, though that thought hadn't even crossed her mind until now.

"Cristina called me," Alex said hesitantly. "She said you hung up on her, and she's worried about you."

"You didn't tell her anything, did you?" Meredith mouthed. She noticed Alex release a sigh, as he neglected to look her in the eye. "I thought I could trust you. Guess I should have known better. It's not the first time you've betrayed me."

"That's not fair," retorted Alex. "You're not being reasonable. You need to talk to someone, and you need to be honest with the people who care about you. You really want people thinking that you _cheated _on your husband? Not everyone knows you like I do. I know you'd never cheat on Derek, and Derek is a fucking idiot to even jump to that conclusion, though it's not his fault. He's been cheated on in the past. I'll take you to the airport, Mer, but running away from this isn't going to help."

There was a moment of silence. Meredith felt the urge to run, but she didn't know where to go, and she didn't want to be alone tonight.

"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought you did," replied Meredith bitterly. "I'm not running away from my problems. I'm looking for my daughter. Derek took her, and he won't reply to my texts or calls. Alex, he has family on the east coast. I-I-think he could take her there." Alex's eyes widened and he pulled out his cell phone. "What are you doing?" she let out a gasp.

"Calling your husband," Alex replied bluntly.


End file.
